Little Girl
by Miss Frodo
Summary: As Frodo continues his quest to destroy the One Ring, he is joined by a most unusual "hobbit" girl, who wishes to help him...
1. The Council

Disclaimer: All the characters in this story are Tolkien's, except the girl...She's all my idea. 

The girl looked around her. She was surrounded by what appeared to be three old men, dressed in long robes and wearing tall hats upon their heads; but these were not men, but the Istari, the wizards. They were in council, a serious one, it seemed, and they seemed to be talking about her. 

"She is not like the others," said the one in brown. "There is something different about her."

"She is dangerous," a wizard clad in white proclaimed. "We must not let the Men find her."

"Different does not necessarily mean 'dangerous,' Saruman," the grey wizard argued. "She is just a girl."

"She is a sorcerer," the white wizard said. "You must see this, at the least. She cannot be allowed to live among the Men. They would use her to do great evil."

"But with proper care, she could very well become something great."

"Where would you have her go?" said the brown. "To the Elves?"

"Precisely, Radagast. We shall take her to Lothlorien, where she can do no evil."

"And what would the Elves want with this...Creature?" 

"That is not our concern. Perhaps they can bring her up to be righteous, something I would not trust a Man to do."

"Perhaps we should not be so quick to trust *you*, Saruman," the grey wizard said quietly.


	2. The Girl

Disclaimer: All the characters in this story (except the girl) belong to Tolkien, of course.

The girl swung down from the tree and landed lightly on the ground. She loved exploring the woods in Lorien, though she never went far. The Elves had warned her never to go beyond their strict boundaries, for fear she might run into one of the untamed predators that roamed Middle Earth. There were wolves, goblins, orcs, and other horrible things to contend with in the world, she was told; though what the girl never knew was that she was really being protected from the corruption of Men. She did not realize that her powers could be used for evil as well as good; she had never encountered anything unscrupulous in her life, not that she could recall, so her heart was pure. 

A noise from the path averted her attention from tree-climbing, and she slunk back into the brush to see who was coming. The Elves were very quiet whenever they travelled, so she was curious to find out what on earth was making such a racket on the trail. Remembering the stories she had been told of vicious wild animals, she decided to turn herself invisible, just to be safe. That was one of her special abilities. 

Though she never thought much of it, the girl knew she had powers that the Elves did not posess; on the other hand, they had magic that she would never understand. She wondered every now and then why she was so different, but no one would ever give her a satisfying answer. They told her she was just born the way she was, somewhere far from Lothlorien, and no one knew quite where, or who her parents were. The elves were old, though, and many had been around Middle Earth enough to know of all its creatures; and none had ever seen or heard of anything exactly like the girl. Some thought she was a Halfling, gifted with some magical power; which made sense, because she was the height of one of the Little People; but why was she enchanted with magical abilities? It was a question that she never found the answer to. 

In addition to vanishing on cue, the girl could also change her physical shape--become a cat, or a bird, or a great many other things. She did not consider this to be magic, but just an extension of her person, and it was certainly nothing out of the ordinary to her. However, she knew that the elves found her to be very odd, and she tried to refrain from shape-shifting most of the time. 

The girl wasn't the only non-Elf who came to the land of Galadriel. She was frequently visited by the grey wizard Mithrandir, who acted as a sort of mentor to her. Other than him, though, strangers scarcely ventured into the forest. She was sure that whoever was on the path now was not Mithrandir. 

Soon the intruders appeared to her sight. They were a varied bunch, to be sure. In the crowd of travellers there walked two Men, tall, strong, and confident; with them walked a very short, husky man with a long beard. The girl recognized him as a dwarf. Then there were four more, about the dwarf's height, but thinner and without beards. They wore nothing on their feet, but seemed to have thick hair covering the tops. These, she supposed, were the Halflings that the Elves spoke of, the ones that looked to be most related to her. Could these change shape if they wanted, too? She thought it unlikely. Last of the group stepped an Elf. He was not one she had seen before. 

The travellers were loud and awkward compared to the tranquil forest, but they did not seem to be harmful. She was about to turn visible and talk to them, but before she could make a move, a troop of Elf scouts dropped down from the trees around them and surrounded them. She listened to them talking, but didn't really follow what was being said. She did catch that they were to meet the king and queen. Curiosity won her over, and she went quickly to the house of Galadriel, in front of the travellers. There she disguised herself as a bird in the trees, and listened intently to all that was said when the group arrived. 

'The Fellowship of the Ring?' she thought. 'So this is why Gandalf was away for so long...And it seems that he shall not be returning anytime soon.' She wondered if a wizard so great could truly die from falling into a chasm with a balrog. Then she wondered how a Halfling--or Hobbit, as they called themselves, she liked that name better--could go about this immense task that had been given to him. The evil of the world was new to her, yet suddenly she wished to become involved with it, or rather to fight against it with the Fellowship. But she knew Galadriel would never let her. She was only a girl, after all. 

At night, the members of the Fellowship rested safely in the Elves' care. The girl studied them carefully. She did not like one of the Men, Boromir. There was something...Ominous about him, though she couldn't quite tell what it was. But she thought he would be better off back at his home in Gondor than on the quest to destroy the One Ring. Perhaps it was the way he kept looking at the Ringbearer that alarmed her. 

She liked the Ringbearer and his friends, though she did not dare try to talk to one of them. In the short time they had been in Lothlorien, she had learned quite a bit about them, and she was certain that she shouldn't know a lot of what she did. Snooping around the Mirror of Galadriel, she had found out a bit more about the Ring, and Frodo, and she realized that, more than anything, she wanted to go with him to Mordor. She knew it was a silly, childish notion, a lust for adventure and excitement, since she had never been outside the forest. But there was more to it than that. She had heard what would happen if he was to fail in his mission. All the races of Middle Earth would become slaves to the Dark Lord Sauron. All for one little Ring. She wanted to help in any way she could, and if a need had not arisen yet, then perhaps one would along the way. 

That night, she made up her mind to follow the Fellowship out of Lothlorien. She went to Galadriel, and told her what she intended to do. The queen did not try to stop her or persuade her otherwise. Instead, she wished her luck, and gave her a few words of encouragement.

"There is much more to you than meets the eye, girl," she said. "You have an inner strength that you have not yet discovered, and I hope you will find it at need along your journey. But be wary of yourself, and the Fellowship--you go to do you know not what. Remember, even the smallest person can change the course of the future."

The girl left the next day with the odd company, but in secrecy; she did not think the time right to reveal herself to them yet. She brought nothing with her, only the clothes she was wearing; and a cloak she had had forever, that was deep blue in color, and was embroidered with runes around the bottom in silver thread. The cloak, and her clothes, were made by the Elves, and had the convenience of staying on her when she changed shape. That is, they disappeared with her human skin, and reappeared with it when she returned to her Hobbit-like form. Generally, she avoided her Hobbit body while she followed the Fellowship. 

There was a point where the Fellowship split, and Sam and Frodo left the others. The time had come for them to begin the rest of their journey...Alone. But the girl had other thoughts. She followed them on their separate road now, and when they settled down to spend their first night alone on the trek to Mordor, she decided it was time for them to know who she was. She fluttered down to the ground before them, in the form of a falcon.

"Hullo!" said Sam. "What's this?"

Frodo looked at the bird suspiciously. "Not a spy of Saruman, I hope." He didn't like the way it looked up at him, with those eerily intelligent eyes. 

"I don't think so," Sam said. "I'd think it would be flying off to Isengard if that's what it was."

"Why is it-" Frodo began, then stopped in midsentence. A bluish light seemed to be radiating from the raptor. The hobbits huddled close together, watching it fearfully. 

The light around the bird grew, until it was almost blinding. Then there was a flash of light, and Sam and Frodo had to look away. When they looked back, they saw before them a young girl, the size of a hobbit but dressed like an Elf, wearing a sunny yellow dress and a long, flowing cape. 

"Hello, Frodo," she said, "and Sam."

"Who are you?" gasped Sam, quite stunned. 

"I am...Without a name," she shrugged, "But I come from Lothlorien, and I wish to help you in your quest for the Ring."

Frodo reached protectively for the chain that held the Ring around his neck. "How do you know about the Ring?"

She smiled. "I've been listening to you, and watching you ever since you entered the forest. All that, plus what Mithrandir's told me, is enough to know what you're up to."

"Mithrandir?" said Frodo. "You mean Gandalf? Did you know him?"

She nodded. "He was often visiting the forest, while he wasn't out saving the world," she said lightly. 

"And what exactly do you want with us?" Sam asked.

"I want to help you," the girl said earnestly. 

Sam was wary of help. "How do we know you're not one of Sauron's servants?"

"You'll just have to trust me. And even if you don't, I'll follow you all the way, even if I have to go back to hiding from you to do it," she said stubbornly. 

Frodo laughed despite the seriousness of the task before him. "Well, I guess you can come with us then, seeing as how we're stuck with you." 

"But what are we to call you?" Sam wondered. "We can't very well just call you 'girl.' It wouldn't be proper."

The girl shrugged. "You can call me whatever you want, I don't care."

Sam sat down and thought hard for a while. He could not think of anything suitable to call this girl. 

"Well, in the meantime," Frodo said, "I suggest we get some sleep...Tomorrow'll be a long day, no doubt."

"Go ahead, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, "I'll stay up and keep an eye out for trouble."

"I could do that," said the girl. "I'm not tired at all."

Sam reluctantly let the girl keep watch. He lay down under a blanket next to Frodo, but did not sleep. Instead, he watched the girl intently, still not trusting this stranger. Though she did not look at him, he had the feeling that she knew she was being watched. If she was nervous, she did not show it. Eventually, despite his apprehensions, Sam drifted off to sleep. He did not stir again until morning.


	3. The Attack

Disclaimer: The characters belong to Tolkien, but the girl belongs to me :)

When Sam woke, he sat up and looked around, alarmed. Where was Frodo? And what had become of that girl? He did not need to worry. Frodo was seated on a large, flat rock jutting from the hill they were on, talking to the girl, who was sitting next to him. Sam walked over to them and managed a smile. 

"Good morning, Miss," he said, then nodding to him, "Frodo."

Frodo laughed, and Sam looked at him. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing," the hobbit said. "It's just that, for a moment, I thought you were calling her Miss Frodo."

"You know," said Sam, "That's not a bad idea."

Frodo thought about it for a minute. The girl looked at him expectantly. "I guess there are stranger things than having a girl named after me," he chuckled. "Alright then, we'll call you Miss Frodo. How do you like that?"

The girl smiled in approval. 

"Great," said Sam. "Now, what's for breakfast?"

There wasn't much for the hobbits to eat. They each had a wafer of lembas, and started on the next leg of their journey. The young girl lightened their heavy hearts. She would often skip off ahead of them, only to return minutes later, still fairly bursting with energy. Sam and Frodo were both tired from the trip they had made so far, but found new strength in her. She liked to hum to herself, or sing in Elvish, and sometimes Frodo could pick out the words, though he was not an expert in that language. 

The closer the party came to their destination, the more dark and desolate the land became. Trees became more scraggly and were few and far between the path they made. Miss Frodo stuck close to the other hobbits now, and she did not sing anymore. No wild creatures were to be seen, though she knew they lurked in the shadows. And the shadow of Sauron drew ever nearer. 

The girl could hear the Ring, and often saw it looming in her mind. It called to her, a loud, piercing hum, that was always present in her ears, though sometimes it was louder than others. At times she thought it would drive her mad, and she would reluctantly leave Frodo's side for a time to get away from it. But she never went far, for fear of what she might find. 

The day came at last when the horrible gate of Mordor loomed ahead in their vision. Now the time had come to face the shadow. But things did not go exactly as Frodo had planned. Miss Frodo had left them to escape her private torment, and she had barely been gone a moment, when they were attacked. 

The Ringwraiths surrounded them suddenly, coming swiftly from the shadow, and did not give the hobbits any time to fight back. From their midst came a tall rider, dressed in black, but he was no wraith. It was a man, and he was known only as the Mouth of Sauron. He snatched Frodo off the ground, and held him captive in his powerful arms. Sam cried out to his master, but before he had time to draw his sword, he was tackled to the ground by a band of Orcs that seemed to have come out of nowhere. The Ringwraiths screeched victory. 

At that moment, Miss Frodo reappeared. She ran to the edge of the circle of Riders, and stopped abruptly. Frodo was taken. Frodo had the Ring. They would find it. Sauron would win. 

She did not see what she could possibly do against all the evil forces before her. She could not save the hobbits. But she would not give up on the Ring. As long as that remained untouched by Sauron, there was hope for all else. But if the Ring was found, then all would be instantly lost. 

Miss Frodo morphed into a falcon as fast as she could, and bolted up into the air, circling the Mouth of Sauron. Frodo was struggling to get away from him, but he didn't stand a chance. 'Save your energy,' she thought to him. 'You'll need it later, if we ever get out of this mess.' He went limp.

She knew that Frodo kept the Ring on a chain around his neck. The top button of his shirt was undone, and from her position she could barely see a metallic glint. Mithril. But on that mail coat hung something much more valuable. She folded her wings and dove for it. 

The Mouth of Sauron saw her coming, and turned his horse to ride away. She was too quick. Flaring her wings to stop seconds before she slammed into Frodo, she reached out with her talons, and felt for the Ring. Its golden circle met her sharp feet, and she pulled, breaking it off its chain and tearing it free. The Ringwraiths screeched; the Mouth of Sauron swung at her; and she beat her way back into the sky, flying up until she could no longer be seen by human eyes. She dared a glance back down at them, and saw that they had taken off for Mordor. So, they had not seen what she had in her talons. If they had, she was sure, they would have shot her in a flash. As it was, she guessed they did not really may much heed to her at all; their real 'prize' they had obtained, the two hobbits. But what would they do when they did not find the Ring there?

Miss Frodo flew on, away from Mordor, until the weight of the Ring was too much and forced her to land. She shot to the ground, and changed into a hobbit. Carrying the Ring would be easier as a hobbit, she thought. But she could not keep carrying it away from the place it had been initially heading! She thought it ironic how both the Fellowship and Sauron had wanted the Ring to go to basically the same place, but for a different purpose. 'I cannot keep it away from Mordor forever,' she thought. 'Eventually, I must go back, and find Frodo--he will know what to do then.' A terrifying thought occurred to her. 'That is, if he's still alive.'

Exhaustion overtook her, and she flopped to the ground. She curled up beneath the shelter of a boulder, and went to sleep, the Ring held tightly in her clenched fist. It haunted her dreams, and played with her mind. Her sleep was far from restful. 


	4. Cirith Ungol

Miss Frodo woke with a start. She could hear voices nearby, the gruff sounds of Orcs bumbling about their ways. She turned herself invisible quickly and crept across a pile of rocks to see them. 

There were three of them, and they seemed pretty carefree. These were the soldiers of Mordor, who served Sauron. Luckily for the girl, they spoke the common language, and she could understand almost every word they said. 

"What do you suppose it was He was lookin' for?" one of them growled.

"It's none of our businesses," said another, "But I hear one of them Halflings held somethin' o' value--a weapon of some kind, though not a sword or nothin'. Very peculiar, if you ask me."

"Well, if He wants it, then He'll get it, one way or another," said the third orc. "Those Halflings are fierce little creatures, though, and I hear there's more to them than meets the eye."

"D'you know what they got off'n that little one they caught yesterday? A shiny new mail coat, made of some fancy stuff, ah, I can't recall what it's named. Mined by the dwarves, it was, and pretty rare stuff."

The other orcs nodded. "You know what else," said one, "I hear they was both carrying-" he paused dramatically- "Elf cloaks."

The others shuddered. 

"And that's not all," he went on, "The one with the fancy stuff--he had an elven sword!"

"You don't say. Good thing they got 'im, that's all I can say. That Elf work is nasty stuff."

"What have they done with those puny rats?" snarled the first.

"Well, like I said, it's none of my business, but I hear they've taken them to Cirith Ungol. And...Well, it's just a rumor, but there's talk that He's coming to see them personally...Thinks he can find out about this...Thing he's after. It's very important to him."

Miss Frodo looked down at the ring in her hand. 'This is what he's after,' she thought, 'But he won't find it where he's looking.'

"What d'you suppose he'll do to them?" one of the orcs went on.

"When Sauron wants to find something out..." The orc fingered a long sword at his side. "...He has ways of pulling information out of the toughest rats."

They laughed cruelly and sauntered on about their private business.

When they were well out of sight, Miss Frodo crept from behind the rocks and looked out to the black gate of Mordor. She had to get in somehow, she had to save Frodo, and Sam...

'Don't be a fool!' she said to herself. 'If you go running in there like this, you might as well just hand the Ring over to Sauron and save yourself the worry. He'll get it if you go, you know he will.'

'But what about Frodo? He's the one who was meant to do this...You don't know what you're doing, or how to get to these Cracks of Doom--you don't even know what they are!' she scolded herself.

'I can't do it...I'll go back, I'll go back to Lothlorien and get help...' 

'You can't go back now. It's too late to turn around. Go forward, you can do it!'

'Do what?'

Miss Frodo thought she would go insane arguing with herself. There was only one option, she knew; to go forward, into Mordor. From there, she would do whatever she had to. She would not leave Frodo to Sauron's men, even if it meant endangering their whole mission, and the fate of the world. But how to get into Mordor? The front gate would be impossible to go through undetected. There must be another way. 

She spent the day circling the bounds of the dead country, looking for another pass. She kept the Ring in her pocket, and would absent-mindedly find herself fiddling with it or reaching for it often. It was all she could do to resist putting it on. There was no need for her to wear it; she did not need its cloaking power, and anyhow, she figured that at this point it would be like a beakon of light to Sauron, pinpointing her exact location to him. She did not need to get herself into any unnecessary trouble; she knew she would have her share eventually. 

A heavy shadow hung over the land at all times, and it was difficult to tell if the sun was out or not. But as she picked her way around the dying land, they sky began to darken even more, and she realized it must be night. She would not rest, but kept searching for a path all through the night. The dark thwarted her march, however, because the air became so black that she could see little beyond the tip of her nose, and she found herself stumbling about in complete confusion. Miss Frodo was forced to stop, but refused to rest; instead, she morphed into a night hawk, which had keener eyes for the dark. During the day, she had been afraid to fly and show herself, but she thought the night might be a better mask for her, and she flew freely, carrying her burden in her talons. It seemed awfully heavy, and she often found herself being pulled down to the ground by its sudden weight. 

Now that she had wings, she felt less intimidated by the boundary, and flew over into Mordor. Below her, Orcs and evil Men marched relentlessly, building up their forces for an attack on the outskirting lands. Miss Frodo tried to fly as high as she was able with the Ring to avoid being seen. She was losing her energy quickly by flapping; there were no welcome breezes in the dark land, and any breeze that blew to her seemed to be blowing her away from where she needed to be. 

When she was thoroughly exhausted, she came upon a tall, spiraling tower, with an eerie red light glowing from a window in its top peak. Though she did not like the looks of it, she needed to rest, and glided down to perch on a turret that stuck out not far from the top of it. The red light loomed above her, staring like a giant eye at the desolate land before it. She wondered what it saw. 

She summoned her strength and fluttered over to a window, nearly blinded for a moment by the redness. The whole room was basked in the light, giving it the illusion of having caught on fire. She stared at the scene before her, and was gripped with a horror that swelled from within her. Her instincts told her to run, to fly far away, but she could not. Her heart was enflamed with rage.


	5. The End?...No way!

Disclaimer: Yeah, it belongs to Tolkien. The girl is me...I mean, she belongs to me :)

The dark man that had grabbed Frodo hit him hard over the head, and the hobbit lost consciousness for a long time. When he woke, he wished that he hadn't, for the fix he was in was something he would have rather slept through. He was lying naked strapped to a torture rack. his hands and feet were bound by thick ropes that cut into his skin and made him bleed. His head spun. There was a red light that hung above him, like the great lidless eye that followed him in his mind. 

Clustered around him were about half a dozen Orcs, each heavily armed with swords and daggers. The largest of them was closest to him, and carried a large, fat whip in one hand, uncoiled and ready to strike. When he saw that the hobbit had come around, he snarled at him and growled, 

"Alright, you little cock-a-whoop, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. If you won't answer for us, you'll answer to the Boss, and you'll like Him even less than you like us, I'm sure. So...Where is It?"

"Where is what?" Frodo asked innocently, though he knew well enough what they were after. 

"You know what He wants!" snarled the Orc. "Don't play dumb with me! He wanted Halflings for a reason, he knows one o' yous has it, and if it ain't you, then you know who's got it!"

Frodo looked closely at the whip. Its end was barbed. 'Think fast,' he said to himself. 'These Orcs probably don't even know what it is they're after.'

"Well?" the Orc demanded, snapping the whip inches above the terrified hobbit's face. Then he lowered his face so that he was almost touching noses with Frodo, and he could smell his foul breath, and hissed, "Where is the Ring?"

"I..." Frodo could not think. He swallowed hard, then made a noise in his throat. "Gollum," he gulped. 

The orc snarled and struck him suddenly, sending the whip across his bare chest. He yelped in pain as the barbs tore at his skin, ripping it apart, and blood oozed slowly from the resulting wound. 

"The Ring, Mr. Baggins," the Orc hissed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Miss Frodo felt like someone had just struck _her_ with a whip. No one hurt Frodo and got away with it. _No one_. She leapt down from the window, morphing into a hobbit as she did so. As her talons melded into fingers, and her clothes sprouted on top of her skin, she thrust the Ring into her pocket. Her blue eyes flickered with anger as she charged at the orcs.

They were slow, and did not see the girl at first. One Orc raised up his whip to strike Frodo again, and she was on him in a flash. But she was no match for the height or strength of an Orc, and once he had gotten over the shock of being pounced on by such a little thing, he easily flung her off him. She landed on the rough block. Her head snapped back and hit Frodo's chest. Her golden hair was streaked red with blood. Unabashed, she leapt to her feet to fight. Two more Orcs grabbed her and pinned her down on the torture rack. They held her efforlessly. 

Miss Frodo struggled hard to free herself, but could not shake herself from the Orcs. She did not fear torture, but was afraid that the Ring would be discovered, and she was afraid for Frodo. She should not have brought it here. That was foolish, she thought. But what was she to do otherwise? Let Frodo and Sam suffer? Still, it seemed they already had. 

"Where's Sam?" she said through gritted teeth.

"I don't know," Frodo answered. "You shouldn't have come here."

A tall man dressed in black walked over to them, and they quit talking immediately. It was the man she had seen before, the one that had taken Frodo away. The Orcs released their hold on the girl, but she did not move; the man scared her, she couldn't think to run or fight anymore.

"Welcome to Mordor, little girl," he said in a surprisingly cheerful voice for someone who looked so malicious. "And who might you be?"

"I'm Miss Frodo," she said angrily. "Who are you?"

"Questions, questions," said the man, quite at ease with himself. His confidence annoyed the girl. She glared up at him. "I have forgotten my name, myself, but they call me the Mouth of Sauron, if you would care to know."

"Why are you doing this?" She knew it was a stupid question, and that she would probably get a stupid answer. But the elves in Lothlorien had taught her that sometimes the innocent approach was the best...If he didn't know that she had the Ring, maybe he wouldn't ask her about it.

The big man laughed. His deep voice made the floor rumble, and the block she was on shook slightly. She cowered back, pressing herself against Frodo. She had lived in harmony with the elves for almost all of her life, and she had never known evil before; but this, she knew, was just that. This man, and these orcs, were evil. They wanted to use the Ring to control Middle Earth for their own evil intent. She could not allow that to happen. Without realizing it, her hand strayed to her pocket, and she touched the Ring. Instantly her hand snapped away from it. 

"Don't play all innocent on me, girl," the Mouth of Sauron sneered. "You Halflings are remarkably resillient creatures, but you do not have half the resistance to withstand what my armies could do to you." He paused for effect.

"Don't tell him anything!" Frodo hissed into her ear. 

The man heard him, and smiled. "So you do know, do you? I thought so. Then perhaps you would be so kind as to help me, now, so we won't have to get the information out of you in any...shall we say...trying manner?"

The orcs grinned and snickered behind him. Their knives shined eerily in the red light. Miss Frodo lay motionless on the block, her eyes wide with fear and her heart beating rapidly. Her mind throbbed from the thought of the item in her pocket. It called to her, echoing in her mind, giving her delusions of grandeur if she were to claim it for her own. She tried to brush away the thoughts. 

She pictured slipping on the Ring, and using it to destroy the dark man before her with her bare hands, and to kill all the orcs in the tower with them. Then she could take it off, and fulfill their mission. Destroy the One Ring. Her mind reeled suddenly, and the image was erased. Why destroy it? Why not keep it? Didn't it belong to the Ringbearer? Shouldn't it belong to her?

NO, she thought, pushing it from her foremost thoughts. She moved her hand away from her pocket. 

"What do you see, girl?" the man said, his voice dangerously quiet. "What do you know?" When he received no answer, he suddenly picked her up and threw her across the room in a rage. She hit the wall with a thump and collapsed to the floor. Her head throbbed from where it had hit stone. Her vision blurred, and she saw shadows in a red mist. 

'Frodo,' she thought. 'What do I do?'

Her foot kicked something hard and metallic. She shook her head to clear her eyes. At her feet was a strange blur--she was just beginning to make it out--a slurred object on the cold stone floor. As her vision came about, she saw its blue form contrasting with the reddened floor. It glowed brightly, savagely, like her fierce little eyes. Tentatively, she reached out to touch it.

"NO!" boomed the man. His sudden roar startled her, and she drew back, snapping her head up. Three of the orcs came at her, knives held before them. Frantically, she reached for the blue thing. The moment she touched it, her vision snapped back into focus. It was the elven blade Frodo had carried from Rivendell. Sting. Miss Frodo knew orcs hated anything elvish. 

She rose to her feet, drawing the naked sword before her. An orc brought her sword down on her, and she blocked it with Sting. The sound of metal clashing against metal rang piercingly in her ears. The orc leapt back, howling in pain as he clutched the hand that held his knife. The elf magic was working without even touching him. Miss Frodo grinned grimly, and swung at the next orc to come at her. He dodged effortlessly to the side as another came at her from behind. She brought up the sword to block him, its slender blade glowing blue against gnarly orc silver. She shoved him back with the sword. 

The dark man came forward, snatching a long, broad blade from one of the orcs. They stepped back, allowing him to come to the girl. He slashed at her, almost lazily, knowing she was unskilled in the art of swordfighting. But hobbits have a way of coming through strongly when they are put into tight places, and she quickly picked up on the technique. He misjudged her swing, and she slashed his arm, drawing a thin line of blood. The Mouth of Sauron was mad.

With one long sweep of his sword, he knocked Sting out of her hands and had her pinned to the floor with the point of his sword. 

"Now, Halfling," he snarled, "Where is the Ring?"

At that moment, the tower rumbled, and the Mouth of Sauron was forced to step back in order to steady himself. Miss Frodo heard the loud cry of an eagle, and saw the far wall explode before her eyes. Through the hole through Mithrandir; Gandalf the White, riding one of the last great eagles. The dark man wheeled to face him, and the wizard let forth a burst of flame from his staff, setting stray orcs on fire and paralyzing the Mouth of Sauron. With a business-like attitude, he dismounted the eagle and went to Frodo, cutting the ropes that bound him. Frodo sat up warily, rubbing his wrists. The wizard had not appeared to notice the girl.

"Where is it?" he snapped. "Where's the Ring?"

"Oh for goodness sake, you too!" Frodo sighed. "At least you're on our side." He looked skeptically at the wizard. "You are on our side..."

"Yes, of course," Gandalf said, sounding annoyed. "Now, please, you haven't much time. Where is the Ring?"

Frodo's eyes grew wide. "I...I don't have it."

"Well I can see you don't have it on you, but where is it?" he repeated impatiently. 

The girl staggered to her feet. This was too much for her. The Ring was calling...It was taunting her, goading her...Her mind was spinning. "I have it," she said weakly. "I have the Ring."

Gandalf spun to face her. "Give it to me!" he snapped. Miss Frodo stumbled back a step, surprised at the wizard's harsh, demanding tone. She didn't like the strange fire in his eyes. "Girl, you must; we have to destroy it."

She slipped her hand into her pocket, holding the Ring protectively. "No."

Gandalf looked at her in surprise. "No? Then you wish to betray us, and keep the Ring for yourself?" She could see his temper rising. He had never been angry with her before.

Miss Frodo looked to Frodo for support. He was just as scared as she. "No," she replied, "I will take the Ring to Mount Doom. I will destroy it."

Frodo looked at her in disbelief. 

"Go home to the Shire, Frodo," she said, her eyes watering. "I'll meet you there someday." She wrapped her long cloak around him, covering him with it. Then she gave him a long hug. "Hang onto it for me...I may need it again."

They both knew she would never see the beautiful cloak again. She would not make it back alive. 

Frodo nodded numbly. Miss Frodo stepped to the hole that had been made in the wall. She took the Ring from her pocket, holding it before her on an open palm. With a deep breath, she cast it into the air, watching it glint gold in the red light of the tower. Miss Frodo became a falcon, leapt into the air, and caught the Ring in her talons. This was the end. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The Ring was heavy in her talons. Too heavy. She could feel it pulling her down towards the rocky ground, making it ever more harder to fly forward. Orcs paraded below her, oblivious, running to some nearby battle that did not concern her. The mountain drew nearer. 

She was almost directly over the Cracks of Doom, when she heard a mind-bending screech searing through the dark air. The screech was followed by another, and another. As she looked about her, three Nazgul closed in on her tiny form. Their winged beasts were ten times her size, and they came at her with a fury she was not prepared for. One assailed her head-on, and she was forced away from the fire. The Ringwraiths threw back their cloaks, and Miss Frodo was frightened by their unearthly faces. She could see their faces. As she tried frantically to evade them, it seemed there was a command among them for her; though it was more of a taunt, unanswerable, that they called. 

"Mighty falcon! Precious Halfling! To wear the Ring is your only hope! Put it on, and fell the army of Sauron!"

And whether it was by some trick of the Nazgul, or one last ploy of the Ring, it suddenly sounded true to the girl. The thought flickered through her mind that perhaps one such as herself might have the power to weild the Ring for good; but her heart warned her against it, and won the struggle in her soul. 

Soon the Nazgul were fully upon her, and tore at her feathers, reaching for the object clenched in her talons. but she was far more nimble in the air than the large, clumsy creatures, and always kept the Ring a feather away from them. The wraiths screeched in fury and frustration, cursing her in their own evil tongue. 

"I'll never be rid of the Ring this way," Miss Frodo thought. "They'll tear me to shreds, and take it back to their master, and everyone I ever cared for will be dead, because of me."

She dived between two of the Nazgul, and shot for the fires of Mordor. There was no time to think, no time to devise a better plan. Miss Frodo folded her wings, and with one final cry of the falcon, dove into the Crack of Doom. Her feathers burst into flame, and the One Ring melted out of her talons, never to bother anyone ever again. 


End file.
